Chapter Seventeen
“What are we doing here?” Martin says, stepping out of the car, heading to the trunk.
“Did you get it?”
“Hope it’s the right one,” he says as the trunk pops open.
We are standing outside the Hearthstone Senior Living facility.
I’ve been waiting on my lowered tailgate for Martin to arrive, gently swinging my legs.
It’s been two months since I moved into his place and it’s been almost a dream, waking up next to him every day.
The adventures haven’t stopped. It’s our thing, I guess.
Magically, one of us will find a message and a mission from our “secret person” and who knows what prize you’ll find at the end of an adventure?
Usually, each other and a long, hard kiss.
Today was Martin’s turn to run around town on his secret mission.
“The hardware store was busy this morning, but I got it. Some unusual things to bring to a senior care facility, don’t you think?” he says, pulling out a small, nondescript canvas bag from the trunk of the car, handing it to me.
I carefully open the bag and peek inside.
It’s all there. Good work, Martin. I also see that his trunk is strewn with the bits and pieces of packaging that make this canvas bag so valuable.
I step closer to him, squeezing the canvas bag between our thighs as he wraps his arms around me.
I go in for a kiss. His lips linger on mine for longer than I expect in this parking lot, when he finally pulls away and says, “What’s this all about?
” His warm breath on my face creates a surge of joy down my spine.
“You’ll see.”
Walking over to the bed of my truck, I pull out several loaves of sourdough from the Village Bakery and stuff them in the top of the canvas bag. It’s perfect; the contents of the bag are hidden beneath the bread. I look at Martin, whose face is scrunched up, wondering what we’re up to.
“Ready?” I say, holding the bag at my side and closing the tailgate. Martin nods and closes the trunk, clicking his remote as the tail lights flash briefly.
He grabs my free hand and says, “Lead the way.” I smile over at him, and he smiles back as we head to the entrance.
After we check in at the front desk, we make our way through the doorway and down the corridor toward suite 59.
Since it’s midday, the courtyard directly outside the hallway is bright with dappled sunlight through the trees and the greenery is vibrant.
We see Gregory sitting on one of the courtyard chairs next to another gentleman.
They must be telling great stories, because we can almost follow along by watching their laughter and facial expressions.
Martin and I stand at the window watching for a minute as he holds my hand a bit tighter, and then he looks at me and smiles. “What are we really doing here?” he smirks.
“Playing cards,” I say, smiling coyly, looking back out the window. Gregory’s companion notices us at the window and points in our direction as Gregory turns to look.
He leaps up from his chair, takes a step toward us, retraces his steps and grabs the hand of his companion in a two-handed farewell handshake, and then he bolts for the door that connects the courtyard to our hallway.
“Martin! Liam!” We hear echoing down the corridor even before we see him appear through the doorway. “How great to see you!”
We meet in the middle and he skips over Martin and comes directly for my hand, shaking vigorously with one hand while squeezing my shoulder with the other. His smile is miles wide and he’s huffing slightly from the effort. His eyes traverse my face like he’s trying to memorize the details.
Finally releasing my hand, he repeats the process with Martin, but he can’t stop looking back and forth between me and Martin with every handshake and shoulder squeeze. He’s beaming.
“It’s so good to see you,” he says, turning and motioning us to follow. “Come on in and set a spell.” Reaching his door, he opens it with a sharp swing, the bare wreath banging on the door, and he motions for us to enter.
Everything is as I remember. After some brief small talk about the place and why some things might seem out of place, he ushers us to the back deck where we take up the space together on the wicker sofa.
Gregory takes our drink order, or rather, tells us what he’s bringing us and heads to the kitchen where we hear the tell-tale sounds of mugs clinking and we catch the aroma of coffee in the air.
He arrives with three identical mugs with identical contents and a “hope you like black coffee because that’s what we got” message.
Black coffee is perfect. I smile at Gregory and then at Martin.
Gregory finally takes a seat and sips his coffee with a sigh.
“We brought you something,” I say, holding the canvas bag out and placing it on the wicker table between us. He smiles and reaches for it.
He attempts to lift the bag, but it's deceptively heavy, and he looks at me quizzically. “Thank you for the bread. What else could this be?” He has a coy expression on his face, and I can’t stop smiling.
He slowly removes the bread, his eyes focused on the bottom of the bag.
He bursts into laughter and throws his head back, still holding the canvas bag open before him.
He can’t stop laughing and Martin and I join in.
He’s still chuckling when he reaches in and pulls out a DeWalt 12-volt Max Power Driver, holding it like it’s a pistol.
“This is great!” he declares, “And you got this past the front desk!” He pulls the trigger and the driver spins and hums as he laughs with glee.
He officially passes the bro test! He squeezes the trigger several more times as he fishes the charger base out of the bag and sets it on the table.
He digs further in the bag and pulls out a case of quick-release sockets in various sizes, and now he’s just like a kid at Christmas.
He’s nearly glowing and won’t consider another thing until he’s tried two different bits in the driver and watches them spin and purr in his hand.
“This is perfect,” he whispers. “I have just the place to hide this.”
He looks at me with a smile that sharpens my world, and then he looks at Martin, switches the driver to his other hand, grabs him on the forearm and squeezes firmly. Neither man speaks for a moment or breaks eye contact. I’m mesmerized by it.
He has no words as he stands and turns, so it takes me a beat to figure out what he’s doing, but I soon realize he’s going to stash his gift in its new hiding place immediately.
We watch through the window as he opens a cabinet door on a table by the couch and reveals a secret electrical socket on the inside.
He plugs in the charging base, attaches the battery, and stows the driver next to it, carefully closing the door.
He looks contentedly at the small table for a moment before heading to the kitchen with the sockets.
He apparently won’t store them together.
Guess he knows what he’s doing. Martin and I watch silently as he sets this all up.
Reappearing on the patio, he sinks into his chair, grabbing his coffee. “Thank you, boys,” he says, “I’m good at keeping secrets!”
Martin laughs, and Gregory and I soon follow. I’ve actually never had the dresser conversation with Martin, so I assume he knows what’s going on, but I begin to wonder as the laughter fades.
We settle into stories and I get a glimpse of what Martin means to Gregory as they catch up on the latest. Gregory wants to know how I eventually found out who my “secret person” was, so Martin tells the story, skipping over the drama and getting right to the midnight garden and the cactus bloom, which we never actually saw.
Maybe someday we’ll actually make it to the bloom, but even the thought reminds me I’d prefer the darkness of the garden instead.
I lock eyes with Martin as he tells the story, and we watch Gregory sink into his chair with a happy sigh.
I reach for Martin’s hand and he squeezes it, smiling.
After an awkwardly long moment, Gregory launches from his chair, saying, “Well, shall we play some cards?”
We slide the wicker furniture closer and spread out so we’re facing each other across the table.
Gregory returns with a deck of cards, smiling, and begins to shuffle with his gnarled fingers while Martin starts digging the pegs out of the board. He starts dealing a card to each of us and then stops.
“Two-player cribbage is better,” he says starting to pick up the few cards he’s dealt. “Three-person cribbage is no good.”
“What?” Martin protests. “We can play with three people. We came to be with you, Gregory.”
I’m shocked and nodding my head.
“No.” He hands the cards to me with a solid look. “I want to watch you boys play.”
Martin looks at Gregory for a minute, assessing the prospect of winning this argument and then looks to me when he acknowledges it can only end in defeat. Gregory sinks back in his chair as I shuffle and deal the first hand.
We play until the sun goes down and the patio darkens.
Gregory keeps us supplied with whatever snacks he has, and every time there’s something good in the crib, Gregory is beside himself.
He also won’t let anything slip by and cries “muggins” at every opportunity, even though he can’t officially earn any points.
I’m having a great time, and every time we cut the deck, my hand brushes Martin’s, our eyes meet, and there is a jolt of electricity that I think even Gregory notices.
Eventually, the game wears on and it’s time to go.
We say our goodbyes to Gregory, and he has a special glimmer in his eye when he says, “Martin, thank you for the sourdough.” Of course there’s a handshake and a shoulder squeeze and a few extra laughs as we make our way out the door and into the hallway.
At my truck, Martin grabs my hands and turns me around to face him.
He doesn’t say anything; he just looks at me for a long while, smiling.
I feel a warm space in my core and I never want this moment to end.
I just want to hold him and look into his eyes and kiss him long and hard. I see it in his eyes too.
That’s what I want.
So I do.
He does too.